The Girl Who Was Buried in Her Ball Gown

It was raining the day of my anniversary and I decided to re-trace the first steps I had taken in my new, present state of being. I went right back to the point of the accident, at my old high school and simply reminisced about the whole event. The ball, the dancing, my ball gown and Martin. My ball gown still looked as good as it did the night I first put it on. At least things didn’t wear out in this new place of existence, wherever that might’ve been. I remembered how Mum and Nikki had sewn it, staying up late into the night to finish it off for me. Nikki was legendary with her sewing machine; even as a twelve–year–old. I’m sure she’s going to be an incredible fashion designer when she grows up, of that I have no doubt.

We didn’t have a lot of money; so, they did all the work for me but I chose the material. I was hopeless on a sewing machine, so I stayed right out of that, only coming when summoned; only when they needed to measure it all up against me.

I remembered everything so clearly, like it was last night. I remembered how I was so annoyed with Elizabeth, the cheek of that girl! Wearing practically the same ball gown as me. Her mother must have got the same pattern from the dressmaker’s store. There must have been a special going, or something. Poor girl, we had been so mean to her. Poor me. Oh… and my first kiss! Everything came back so clear, it was frightening. I was already bawling like a baby and I hadn’t even really begun.

The revving of the car’s motor and the squealing of the rubber on the asphalt tennis court, was still raw in my ears as I recalled how Martin and I were behind the bushes, hidden from prying eyes, pashing it up big time, my knees going weak. It was so nice, but oh, so clumsy! The first time we tried, we nearly broke each other’s teeth as we moved our hot, feverish lips together too quickly. It was funny and I giggled. Then we tried again… his lips tasted like… punch! Sweet, fruity punch. Of all the things, they could have tasted like. I would not have minded, even if he’d been eating garlic bread all night, I would not have minded at all.

He smiled his beautiful smile at me and my heart was all a-flutter. A silly wee girl. Maybe Pohane was right, when she told me just as much on that third day, about how I was just a silly little girl.

The pain that shot through my body, from the impact of Patrick’s Dad’s car, as it crashed into us, it felt like a great wrecking ball and was so vivid. We went flying and I remembered (because I didn’t at the time), at which point I actually died! I was flying through the air and looking around as to where I might land. Would I hit that tree trunk, or the ground before it? Then I felt the jolt as my head made contact, yet my body kept on going, twisting my neck with the force of the momentum. I heard a snap ringing through my ears before I was left lying on the grass; then there was hot metal against my skin, crushing and burning me from above. I was looking into the bush, wondering what had just happened, where all of this pain had suddenly come from. My arms and torso were hot, my head throbbed and my legs felt like lead. My neck, oh it was so sore and my head was at an impossible angle from being twisted around.

A grinding against my flesh startled me and yet relieved me. I heard the shouts and the grunting of boys pushing, in a mad panic. Pushing the car off me, trying not to stand on me while they did so. Their shoes were nicely polished, for the ball of course.

“Shit! What have you done you bloody idiot! You’ve killed her, look!”

“Get it off her! Push!”

“How’s Martin? Is he alright?”

“Oh my God, you are getting locked up for this Patrick! Bloody Patrick Winton!”

“Someone called the ambulance yet?”

“Hell, I’ve got no credit!”

“They’ll be coming for you Patrick, you’d better run man! Run!”

“I’ve called! They’re on their way.”

“God help us! Help Emma! Emma! Stay with us!”

As the pain subsided, a montage of my whole life flashed through my mind. My now, shortened life. I could remember right back, even to when I was in the womb, it was so vivid but so fast! It all began with a flash of glorious light, shooting through my soul as Dad’s sperm entered Mum’s egg and created me. I was in the dark warmth and felt my first surge of excitement. So many clips shot through my mind from that point on. First, a lot of darkness but glimpses of blurry light, noises and voices and feelings. Thumps and bumps, all sorts of things went on before I came into this world. I remembered that too. I remember a strong hand reaching in for me and twisting my head around, so I would be in the right position to come out.

Someone was touching my head at that point, twisting it the other way. There was a shock and then a whole lot of light after that and memories. Falls and feedings. Sore bums, painful teeth, aching legs and arms through growth spurts. And love, lots of love. Lots of learning.

New babies came after me too, Nikki and Tim and I saw myself through them both, many times over.

Kindergarten was next and the first time I met this grubby little boy, whom I had just kissed on that night. Schooling and photos; so much I could not tell, but I could if I had a lifetime to tell it all. After that rush of history had rocked through my mind, I stood up and went to Martin who was being wheeled into the ambulance by then.

I thought that the girl on the ground was Elizabeth, not me. I was wrong. The car seemed to have faded from my mind, I couldn’t tell where it was. I couldn’t even tell what colour it was. But I remembered the ambulances and the paramedics. There were two ambulances and four paramedics; two ladies and the equivalent in men.

After I had taken my time to remembering the ball; then how it all went ballistic at the end of it and how I had died, I ran to the hospital. I didn’t cheat by ducking into mirrors, I ran the whole way. I even went into the hospital and jumped down from the fifth floor, through the same window and landed in the same place as before, a year ago. This time I was on my own though. Pohane was not leading me astray. Good!

I ran, passing cars and trucks like they were going super slow, until I came to the bend in the road. I was actually surprised just how far it was to the bend, then I scaled the dirt bank before running through the forest at a dash. As I passed the spot where the lovers’ lay last year (they were not there this time), I paused and wondered how I would feel about going back to my grave. I had avoided it all year and still felt uneasy. Who would I see, who wouldn’t I see? Would anyone even bother to come, or had I been forgotten? I pressed on reluctantly, before coming to the edge of the forest and then began to cross the manicured fields of memories, the inscriptions-on-stone.

The rain was heavier this time, heavier than last year and in the distance, I saw a small gathering, around the sacred soil. There was no blue tarpaulin, not at my spot anyway. There were a few, unfortunate new additions to my realm wandering about as if unsure. I understood how they felt and I saw a couple of those being enveloped by a flash of light, before they disappeared into eternity. Then I noticed another soul, in another part of the cemetery, screaming in utter anguish, while he was being dragged into the earth by those foul creatures. My heart raged, but I could do nothing.

I remembered Toni, I still did not know where Toni had gone, after her terrible demise. Oh, I hoped and prayed it was within the flash of light.

I stood amongst the group of family and friends who had gathered, there were about thirteen people. I was quite surprised at the turn-out. Martin and his mother were there. Mum, Tim and Nikki were close by. I moved through the gathering to look at their solemn faces. They had come, they had not forgotten me and for that I was so pleased. However, Dad was not there and neither was my strange Auntie Annie. Fortunately, she had been redeemed from her gassy death–bed and Dad was still locked up. Safe from Doug, I hoped. Lovely flowers had been laid and a remembrance wreath in blues and purples, my favourite colours.

I reached out to take Nikki’s hand and squeezed it.

“Mum, Emma’s here, I can feel her. She’s holding my hand.” She said as her face lit up. She squeezed my hand back and then glimpsed in my direction, trying to see me or imagine me there. She was growing up so fast and she was beautiful. She was taller than I was at her age; lithe and lanky like a typical tween should be. She had Dad’s nose and Mum’s chin and eyes. I had Mum’s nose and eyes and Dad’s chin. We resembled each other closely, both with wild red hair (her hair was straighter than mine though, not as bird-nestie) yet slightly different in features. Nikki was more beautiful than me. I reckon that younger sisters were always a little more beautiful than their older sisters. That’s what I maintained anyway and she was wearing a bra too!

I also saw Toni’s mother there, which surprised me and she looked very sad. Mum was giving her a gentle hug. Toni would not be here today, that much I knew. I held Martin’s hand as well and he tensed up a little, a smile played across his bold, sweet lips; my heart skipped a beat, well it would have if it was still beating.

I was standing between him and Nikki, who was turning her head and lifting her chin up towards Martin, catching a couple of sneaky looks and then snapping back, hoping it went unnoticed. I began to wonder if she thought of him in the same way as I did. He was handsome and his stick in his hand made him look regal, with a royal sceptre; the prince before the princess. Aye, but which princess? He looked at Nikki too. Hmm, how many years between them? Martin was seventeen and Nikki was thirteen; just over four years then, that’s not so bad. Maybe right then it’s a big gap, but in eight years’ time, or ten? Not unreasonable. I giggled a little and squeezed both of their hands, pulling them closer together. Was I jealous? Maybe.

The people there, were very sweet and spoke of wonderful memories and moments we had once shared. They sang Amazing Grace and a couple of other songs that I knew from church. My eyes were wet, likewise so were many others’ and it wasn’t just from the rain.

The rain was getting harder and people slowly melted away, back to their cars. Only Mum, Nikki and Tim were left standing there. Martin and his mother were just about to go when Nikki gripped Mum’s hand, “Mum, shall we invite the Philips’s to afternoon tea?”

“Why not, that would be nice.”

Nikki called after them, “Martin! Mrs. Philips! Would you like to come back to our place for a cuppa?” They nodded and then my little family wandered off home with Mrs. Philips and her unsuspecting son Martin, in tow. Nikki had a cheeky glint in her eye and I ‘popped’ into visibility for the briefest of moments, not really startling Nikki; she had seen me appear before.

“Nikki! You’re a cheeky little monkey!” I said to her with a grin.

“What? Why?” Nikki said quietly and giggled as they headed for the dry shelter of the cars. This was going to be an interesting afternoon, and it became a lovely one. I behaved myself and kept my silent, yet observant vigil. Everyone had fun playing 500, with the new pack of cards and sharing the food, along with plenty of cuppas; all the while, swapping stories.

I loved my family and missed them. I missed the way things had been, if only things worked out differently. Still, on some occasions we didn’t get to choose our own paths, we just had to work with what was dished up. Gold could be found anywhere; we just had to dig a little deeper sometimes, to find it.